


Fire and Ice

by GrayceAdamsArchive



Category: VillFandom
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Smut, implied lesbian relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayceAdamsArchive/pseuds/GrayceAdamsArchive





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZeraHenna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeraHenna/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hearts and Souls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044316) by [ZeraHenna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeraHenna/pseuds/ZeraHenna). 



My world was always cold. Oppressive. Suffocating. No matter how far I ran, or how much money I spent on an open floor plan flat, it was never far enough, never big enough. And no matter how many layers I wore, no matter how many sweaters I piled on, I was always cold. 

Most of the time, I put it down to the climate. I'd turn up the thermostat. If that didn't work, I'd move to the southwest. But I was still wearing that baggy sweater in July, with that hat on my head and the sleeves pulled all the way to my wrists. My body would be sweating, but I'd still feel cold. Other times I put it down to the flat I'd chosen. It was too white. Made me think of winter. It was too cramped, despite the sprawling rooms. So eventually, I'd move again. I hopped cross-country, still only skimming the top of my inherited fortune, knowing I could have bought a new mansion every year for the rest of my life and not spent it all. 

Sometimes, I blamed the suffocation, the cold, on loneliness. I'd been born into a big family, despite their emotional distance. I'd slip into a bar or a club, and surround myself with people. Sometimes I'd get laid. Most times I hated myself so much afterwards, I'd make myself physically ill. Occasionally I was too numb to care. 

The only time I felt a tingle of warmth was when I slipped something into my pocket on my way out of a store, the cold metal of my gun feeling warm where it was nestled against the small of my back. 

But after a few years, that tingle wasn't enough. 

I was drifting. I didn't even know what city I was in. I'd gotten on a plane in Tacoma, buying a ticket to New York, then hopped off a few legs into the flight. I wandered the streets of this strange city. I ducked into a store, having dropped my single bag off at a hotel and paused only to wash my face. I slipped a couple tubes of lipstick from the cosmetics aisle in my pocket and walked back out. I dropped them in a bin a few blocks down. The sun was beginning to set, but what was the fun in going back to the puke-yellow hotel room for the night, only to get up in the morning and get on another plane to who knows where? 

I wandered the city more. 

I made my way into a seedier part of the city, where I went into a club just for kicks. After all, I already felt like every breath was choking me, so why not add smoke and alcohol and dancing to the mix? 

The first thing I did was walk up to the bar and open a tab. Then I ordered three shots, downed them all, and then slid back into the crowd. I danced for a while, and had my arse groped rudely a few times, and quickly went back to the bar for more shots so I wouldn't feel the pinch quite so much. I swayed with the crowd on the dance floor, glancing blearily up into random faces as I went. 

Cold. Oppressing. Suffocating. 

I started to make my way for the exit, feeling like I was hundreds of feet underwater, pressure on all sides, crushing my body, immobilizing my lungs. 

And then I bumped into her. 

The skin of her hand was like fire where it brushed mine as she pushed past on her way to the bar, glancing forlornly over her shoulder as she went. I followed her gaze and found two girls near a table, dancing in circles around each other, giggling and flushed with obvious romance. 

Oh. I turned my head, looking after the girl who felt like fire. She was at the bar by now, pushing a wad of cash at the bartender. Against my better judgement, I followed her, and slid into the seat next to her. I tried to think of several things to say. Clouded with alcohol, my brain instead came up with grabbing her arse. So I did. She turned and looked at me, and I felt a large sigh slip out of me as I leaned onto the bar top. She had thick, straight hair framing a sweet face, her eyes narrowed and miserable. I swayed on my seat until I was leaning against her, my lips pressed to the shell of her ear. She stilled as I murmured about how I’d seen how she’d been looking back at her friend like she was a lost puppy. And then I said something about my tongue, though I wasn’t sure what it was. Then I realized that she’d put her hand on my hip and was nodding, and I tried to think of where to take her for a quickie. Back to my puke-colored hotel? No. Too far. 

I took her hand and we stumbled outside into the biting air of late night, and and into the alley on the side of the club. Her hands were on my shoulders as I pushed her against the wall, gently kissing along her jaw. Her skin smelled like smoke and alcohol from the club, tangy with salt from her sweat. Wherever her skin touched mine felt like she had a fever of a hundred and five, and I found myself craving it, wanting more of her touch, more of her taste. My hands slid down her sides to her hips, tugging her closer, grinding our hips together. She gasped under my touch as my fingers slipped under her shirt, sliding along her skin. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I lifted my face to kiss her, my fingers fumbling with the button to her jeans. She tasted like beer and cherry chapstick, and fire bloomed inside my stomach as her tongue began to caress mine. Then the button to her pants snapped free, and the zip slid down as I hooked my fingers in her panties. She let out a soft gasp as I started pushing them down, my lips moving from her mouth to her throat again. I traveled down her body, pushing her pants down as I went. Before I knew it I was kissing her navel, nipping playfully at her skin as I travelled lower. My hands slid back up her calves and thighs to grip her hips as I slowly trailed my lips lower on her body until I came to the crux of her thighs, her skin hot and damp against my mouth. She made a soft whimpering noise as I flicked out my tongue, teasing the folds of her sex. I felt her tremble a bit, and I smirked as I dove in suddenly, thrusting my tongue into her body. She gasped and shuddered, a hot gush of her juices running down my chin as I sucked on the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, a few of my fingers slyly slid into her opening, pumping in and out steadily. Her head dropped back against the alley wall, panting as I worked her body for all I was worth, crooking my fingers inside to hit the sweet spot, making her cry out and claw at the bricks behind her, her knees threatening to give out as her orgasm swept her away. I swallowed what I could of her juices, then sat back as she slowly slid down the wall, her eyes blurry with post-orgasm bliss. I smiled at her, and she lifted a corner of her mouth back, not really a smile, but it made my insides feel like they were on fire. 

After she recovered and pulled up her pants, we went back into the club, to possibly drink some more, but her friends, the ones she’d been looking at so forlornly, came staggering up and dragged her away. I caught her arm, which felt like I was grabbing a firebrand, and she looked at me with this lost look on her face. 

So I let her go. 

And my world went cold. 

~*~

The buzz was fading. The rush of heat I got from shoplifting was nearly non-existent. What was the point? The original purpose, the warmth, was gone from it. The only warmth I found now was in the memory of the girl with the fire-hot touch, and even that was beginning to fade with time. 

I stayed in the same city, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’d see her again. But who was I kidding? Portland was huge. She could have been anywhere. Hell, she may have only been here for the night. But still, the hope persisted, and I stayed. I got an apartment and tried to ignore how cold it felt inside, no matter how much I cranked the thermostat. I visited the same club, every night. I never saw her. 

A week went by, then another. The memory was dull, gray, cold, except in my dreams. I woke up panting and sweating, throwing off the duvet and hastily shoving a hand down my shorts before it was too cold again. But all too soon the dream was nothing but smoke, and I was left freezing. 

I was buying groceries. I had a basket on one arm, with bread, cereal, and milk in it. I was wandering down one of the aisles, and sighed as I slipped a pair of headphones into my bulky sweater pocket. I heard a rustle to my left, and whirled around to see who had come upon me shoplifting for the first time in years. 

It was like looking into the sun for the first time after being blind for always. Bright, almost painful, and all too unreal. I could barely believe it. Days of searching, and here she was, standing right in front of me in the mini mart down the street from my apartment with a box of Honey Bunches of Oats in her hands. And she was staring at me like I was a ghost, like I was something infinitely precious that she’d lost and just found again. 

I dropped my basket, stumbled towards her and grabbed her. I yanked her into a hug, and she stiffened, holding incredibly still as I just soaked up the heat that seemed to pour from her. It was like I was holding a giant flame close to my body that didn't burn. And, after a moment, she hesitantly hugged me back. I felt the cereal box dig into my spine. 

It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. 

I left the basket where I dropped it, leaving the headphones with it, too. I could get food later. I stood in line with her while she bought her cereal. We exchanged names, and she told me she preferred to be called Gray. I invited her back to my apartment. She smiled at me, that half-crooked smile that only tugged up one of the corners of her mouth, and I felt my insides catch flame again. I wanted to make her smile like that always. 

We went to my apartment. We disappeared underneath my sheets for a few hours. Then we just laid there, tangled up in each other, and for the first time in years, I didn’t wonder why the bloody hell I couldn’t get my toes warm, or why the tip of my nose was always tingling. Gray made me warm, and I was determined to keep her. 

So even when we moved to her apartment so she could get fresh clothes and a girl I didn’t know but recognized from the club the first night I met Gray came to the door and asked her questions about someone I didn’t know in the hall in hushed whispers, I didn’t care about the fact that I could already tell she was lying. I didn’t care that part of Gray belonged to someone else still. Every bit of Gray that was important to me was here, and when she came back in looking lost and hurt again, I pulled her to her bed that would quickly become our bed, and I taught the woman I loved how to forget.


End file.
